Not A Father's Day
by manda600
Summary: Lily's pregnancy prompts Robin to confess about her own close call two years ago.
1. November 2009

**_I close my eyes, I look away  
>That's just because I'm not okay<em>**

* * *

><p><em>November 2009<em>

"Hey," Lily greets Robin, letting herself into the apartment.

Walking out from the kitchen, she calls back a 'hey' of her own.

Lily cocks her head to the side, studying her friend with a long measuring once-over. "What?"

Robin gives her a funny look, plopping down on the couch. "What-what?"

"Something's up with you," Lily declares. "I can tell by the look on your face. Spill it."

"It's – it's nothing. Nothing," Robin casually dismisses, turning her attention to fiddling with a throw pillow.

Lily narrows her eyes in keen observation. "Mmm-mmm. Nope. Not buying it. It's definitely something. What?"

When the silence extends to an unnatural length, neither woman relenting, Robin blows out a heavy sigh. "Fine. It's…..it's just…"

"Just what?" Lily prompts. It isn't like Robin to beat around the bush about anything, and she's starting to get the feeling she's about to hear something truly juicy.

"I got my period today," Robin finally blurts.

Lily stares at her, confused. "Congratulations? I really haven't celebrated mine since I was twelve," she teases, "but if you want to – "

"No," Robin smiles. "No, I…..I was late…I thought maybe…"

"Oh. _Oh_." Lily's eyes grow wide and her mouth gapes open as the full implication of what Robin said – or, really hadn't said – sinks in. This is the time when a woman truly needs her best girlfriend, and she's about to say something wise and comforting, really she is, but her mind goes off on a tangent of its own and she can't resist. "Can you imagine having a Stinson spawn? The kid would have to fight its own father for breastfeeding time!"

Robin laughs along, but Lily senses something dark behind it and reins herself in. "But seriously, I thought you'd been acting strange this past week. You really dodged a bullet there, huh?"

"Yeah. Right. Definitely."

Robin can't explain this little twinge of sadness. She _hates_ this little twinge of sadness. It makes her feel silly and weak. She's smart enough to know it would have been a disaster – especially now that they've broken up. And, besides, it's not like she wanted Barney's baby. She doesn't want kids at all. Okay, maybe possibly someday way down the road, before all her eggs dry up, she might potentially consider it. But now? Now would be crazy. Now would get in the way of all of her plans. So she can't understand this small feeling of loss.

But then she remembers the look on his face the night before when for one self-torturing moment she glanced over on her way out of the bar as he hit on some girl. That's when she realizes that maybe this bittersweet feeling has nothing to do with babies at all. Maybe it just represents the very last part of him, that very last connection, slipping away from her. She doesn't know.

One thing she does know, now that she's in the clear, there's a very tall glass of scotch down at MacLaren's with her name on it.


	2. September 2011

_**Will we ever say the words we're feeling  
>Reach down underneath and tear down all the walls<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>September 2011<em>

"So, Lily's gonna have a baby," Barney says, sliding into the booth across from Robin, fresh drink in hand.

"Yeah." It's late. The rest of the gang have gone home. She's been drinking too much and everything's starting to jumble up and twist together – her heart included.

"That's pretty huge – and I'm not even talking about the future size of her waistline." He starts to raise his hand for a high five but stops at the look on her face.

"Seriously, Barney, it _is_ a big deal." Taking a cue from her mood, he nods sagely. "It kind of makes you think about your own life."

He looks down into his scotch, swirling it in the glass. "Yeah," he agrees. But it sounds a little too deep, a little too meaningful, so he pulls back with a nonchalant, "I mean, I guess so."

Silence stretches as they're both deep in thought.

Robin doesn't know why she says it now. Maybe it's all this talk of babies, maybe it's because she's feeling reflective, maybe it's his upcoming 'coffee date' with Nora. Most likely it's the alcohol. Whatever the cause, she finds herself blurting, "You know, there was a time right after we broke up when I thought _I_ might be pregnant."

His eyebrow arches up in surprise, but his voice is soft as he says, "You never told me."

She's tellingly silent, thinking that at the time he was too busy with scuba suits and playbooks to notice or care.

"You _could_ have told me," he says, as if reading her mind.

She shrugs. "Turns out there was nothing to tell."

Silence falls again. Barney's left to ponder a different outcome, and surprisingly the thought of having a child with Robin is not nearly as terrifying as it should be for the founder of Not A Father's Day – a thought which in and of itself is deeply disturbing.

"And if there had been?" he asks. He can't quite bring himself to say the words 'our baby'. "Something to tell, I mean."

She looks over at him for the first time since bringing up their 'close call'. "If there had been, you would have known."

He nods and sips his scotch. Lost in thought, he stares so hard at his glass it seems he's attempting to find the mysteries of life inside the amber liquid. "Can you imagine the kind of father I'd have made?" he scoffs. "Worse than mine even."

"Oh, I don't know."

He looks up at that, finally meeting her gaze.

There's a poignant earnestness in her eyes as she tells him, "I don't believe you're nearly as bad as you think you are."

And suddenly there's a stifling air of sadness around them. Sadness mixed with….. _something_. Something else just as dangerous. Something they've tacitly agreed to ignore.

"Well, next time, promise you'll tell me," he says distractedly, taking a long gulp.

Robin laughs bittersweetly, and he realizes his stupid mistake. They both know there won't be a 'next time'. There can't be. They already danced around that idea once before throwing it away.

"I have to go," she says hurriedly and walks away, leaving him drinking there alone.


End file.
